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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Green Peas at Stake #258893 added September 27, 2003 at 9:18pm
Restrictions: None
Nostalgia
Nostalgia
1
A whiff of jasmine, my mother’s perfume,
Elegance captured in dreamlike prose,
I travel through time, a free trip home,
Vistas from the past, remembers my nose.
2
A lone beach chair by the serene dunes,
A deft overture, where memories start.
Winter’s puzzle, an icy serenade;
Ambiguity, the treason of the heart..
3
Love’s fable in the darkness,
Wilderness quickly prevailed,
Fragile comfort in travel,
An old road, raptures unveiled.
Like steam on dark glasses,
In romance, comedy caught,
The flavor or the technique,
Darting pleasures it has brought
4
Reading alone my highway tales,
I concentrate on battlegrounds,
Loving faded ancient rescues,
In my old haunts mischief abounds.
When fall enters flowers lament,
Bereavement tunes console the ground,
Skimming through spoil of years,
I celebrate the peace I’ve found.
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© Copyright 2003 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Joy has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
